Ginevra Weasley and an Inappropriate Amount of Chirstmas Cheer
by weregrrl
Summary: Ginny didn't want to go home for Christmas, and why should she, with scheming brothers in the mix? But caught between a book and a stern face, she has no choice but to allow herself to be taken hostage in the worst possible way. She may be a guinea pig under a spell, but what will her beloved think? WARNING: Contains subtle amounts of crack, exploding snap, and mental breakdowns!


**A/N:**** What have we here? Well, if it isn't Lucy's _(slightly late)_ Crackmas story. Sorry for the delay. I have this thing where I sleep all through the holidays and lose track of the, um, _holidays_.**

Merry Christmas, and enjoy!

* * *

_**Ginevra Weasley and the Excessive Amount of Chirstmas Cheer!** (also known as **'Ron Has An Emotional Crisis'**and**'Whatever I Change the Title To!'**)_

"Ginny, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Same ol', same ol'," the girl replied, without even taking her eyes off the magazine before her, "Jinxing all possible entryways to the flat, and avoiding my family."

Hermione sighed behind her.

"You know," the brunette intoned evenly, "if you just went to see them-"

Ginny put up her hand in defense.

"You stop it right there, Miss Granger. I happen to know for a fact that you aren't seeing your parents, either," she stated, in a bored tone.

Hermione stopped moving behind her.

"What makes you say that?" she hedged.

"You haven't packed, you don't have any gifts, and what in Merlin's name are you _wearing_?"

Ginny had seen many sad things in her life, but the – _was it a towel?_ - Hermione had just draped over herself was by far the most upsetting.

"It's a robe! I just had a shower!" Hermione defended, holding out her arms, "See? Wet! More to the point, what does my clothing choice have to do with anything?"

"It's Christmas Eve. People primp when it's Christmas Eve," Ginny took a moment to grimace, "It looks like you skinned some pygmy puffs, and decided it was fashionable."

Hermione sniffed.

"It's faux mink," she stated dourly.

"Whatever you say, Cruella."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and snatched the magazine from in front of her flatmate, "You are going to The Burrow tomorrow, and that is final!" she added when the redhead started to protest.

"But you aren't doing anything!" Ginny whined, grabbing for her copy of _Witch Weekly_, "I'm not walking into that house just to get soot rubbed in my face!"

"Ginny, you lost a card game!" Hermione was close to snapping.

"It wasn't a card game! It was a _battle_, and I _lost_!" Ginny cried dramatically.

An eyebrow rose on her friend's face. She was skeptical, Ginny knew. But she just didn't _understand_.

"You're going," she said.

"I will not embarrass myself further," Ginevra replied with all the dignity she could muster, splayed out on an unmade bed, one hand ripping desperately into a gossip rag.

"You're going," Hermione repeated, letting go of the magazine and walking away. Ginny fell to the ground with an unladylike 'oof!'.

"Oh, go toss me off the bed, then," she muttered, before calling out, "I'll get you for that!"

Hermione's voice echoed from the next room, "You're still going!"

Ginny groaned, and flopped back onto the floor. She was starting to get a headache.

* * *

"Merry Christmas!"

The cheer chorused throughout the Weasley household, before bursting into a bizarre mix of laughter and yelling. It was into this fray that the two girls apparated; Hermione hurdling into the drunken trio of Ron, Charlie, and Arthur, and Ginny into a wooden pillar.

"Ow," she moaned, rubbing her nose once she had righted herself, "I told you we should have-"

"Ginevra!" Molly squealed, entrapping her daughter in a soft hug, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, mum," Ginny squeaked, before turning to her companion.

"I told you we should have landed outside," she whispered.

Hermione slapped her on the back, grinning, "So you could run away? No, that wouldn't do."

"And Hermione! How lovely to see you. I thought you'd be with your family this year?" Molly said, embracing the other witch.

"Oh, you know me, Molly. I wouldn't miss a Weasley Christmas for the world," she replied, grin still plastered on her face, eyes _still_ boring into Ginny's. Rather maniacally, if she did say so herself.

_Fuck, that's creepy_, Ginny thought, before regaining her senses, and pulling her flatmate away from her mother with the excuse of needing to eat.

"You know how hungry Hermione gets around Christmas!" she joked, "She went up two dress sizes last year!"

Hermione jabbed her in the ribs, whilst pretending to giggle.

"_You bitch_," she hissed under her breath.

"You bet I am, princess," Ginny replied in equally hushed tones as she pulled the brunette to the table, "Remind me why you decided last minute that you simply _had_ to come for dinner?"

"Because it made you come," the girl replied, plucking a grape from the table.

"You do know what George wants me to do, right?" she reminded her fearfully.

Hermione sighed, rolling the grape around her mouth.

"Yes, I do," she stated matter-of-factly, "You lost the last round of Exploding Snap, so he made you down some new 'lover's truth' potion they're working on. Honestly, I think it's better if you just get on with it."

"I don't want to snog someone just because he says 'nargles'!" she whined.

"Oh, but you won't, sister dear," George said, sidling up beside them, the eavesdropping _sneak _that he was, "You see, when I, or Fred, as the case may be, utter the key phrase," he continued in a haughty tone, "you will automatically seek out the person you find most attractive in this room, and give them a nice, pleasant smack on the lips."

"I hate you," Ginny replied.

"I've asked Fred to clear the path to Harry. Wouldn't want you slipping in your heels," he replied, grinning and pointing to the other end of the table.

"I _really_ hate you."

"Don't worry! If you latch on too hard, I'll go get the crowbar before you suffocate yourself. Wouldn't want our little Ginny to come to any harm," he continued blithely. Hermione choked on her grape.

"No, I don't think you understand just how much I hate you. I actually want to kill you right now," 'little' Ginny said seriously.

"Oh, don't be so coy," he winked.

"I want your dead body in front of me. And blood. Lots of bl-"

"Nargles!" Fred shouted from across the room. Ginny's brain shut down and in an instant, she was practically humping her beloved over the table. The room went quiet.

"Uh, George, mate? I don't think it worked," Charlie uttered into the silence. Ginny regained enough of her senses to pull away for a minute.

"No, it worked, alright," she grinned dreamily, before letting her lips get onto more important matters. Hermione snickered.

_Merry Christmas to me_, she thought, deciding that kissing her girlfriend was probably the greatest thing she had ever done in public.

_Okay, I might be a bit of an exhibitionist_, she reasoned, whilst still rather enjoying herself_, but_ Merlin_, I know how to pick them!_

* * *

Meanwhile, her two best friends were having a crisis.

"Harry?" Ron asked, eyes glued to the situation at hand.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, equally entranced.

"Should I find this hot, or is that weird?"

Harry shook his head and clapped his red-headed companion on the shoulder.

"I have no idea, mate. I have no idea."

"Harry?" Ron asked again.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"Don't ever snog me, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

* * *

**A/N:** **And Merry Christmas to YOU!**

Love

_(trust, and pixie dust)_**,**

Lucy~!


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